


Night May Have Its Sadness

by hepsybeth



Series: Give Those Kids and Me the Brand New Century [7]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Depression, Light Angst, Prohibition, References to Suicide, Winter, also she's a Lesbian, delancey's a cameo too because he's just ruining things for everyone involved, especially since no one ships skittery with anything, i guess you could read this as a ship if you wanted to but it wasn't really the point, sarah's more of cameo than a large part of this story, unless you're me and you ship him with unending happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:03:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14340867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hepsybeth/pseuds/hepsybeth
Summary: Skittery was tired and usually that meant nothing new.





	Night May Have Its Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> this all stemmed from the headcanon I read that skittery has seasonal depression. as if these guys' lives aren't sad enough. also, it kills me that this guy wasn't in the stage adaptation but whatever i'm not mad. i just feel like davey and skittery could be good friends. also, no one writes about skittery. so that's where i come in.
> 
> also, it seems like i'm writing this in a sort of chronological order although that wasn't my intent, but that happens. which means the next story will be set in the spring of 1922. which, cool i guess. 
> 
> also also, sarah is a lesbian. she has a super tiny appearance in this, but i'll write a story for her eventually.
> 
> also also also, the concept of Depression As An Illness wasn't a universal thing in the 20s. it was kinda like melancholia or something to do with the "humors". then there was the concept of "manic-depressive insanity". freud wrote about it too but, y'all know... freud. so skittery's depression is referred to more in symptoms and stuff because there wasn't a real name for it yet.

Skittery was tired and usually that meant nothing new. He was always tired. Funny enough, he hated sleeping. Sometimes in those fleeting moments that separated sleep and awake, he’d feel stuck, aware enough to be awake but his body would still refuse to move. He hated that. As a result, in an attempt to stave off sleeping for as long as he could, he’d end up taking naps anywhere and everywhere. After a straight thirty-six hours of being awake, he could sleep through anything.

It was a learned skill, he figured, and one he’d had for a while. Growing up the sixth of eleven tended to do that to you. Older sisters fight, baby brothers scream. A kid still needed to find a way to sleep anyway. So naps would come Skittery’s way on park benches, in restaurant booths, at his work desk, even while standing up (or, so he was told). This was more typical during the springtime and summertime and he could more or less deal with it. That was normal.

But soon the winds would grow colder and the nights would become longer and the very marrow of his bones would sometimes weigh his body down. Those days when he’d rather not make the effort to get out of bed that morning, days when even eating some lousy cream of wheat took more effort than it was worth, days when he’d rather sleep and never wake up.

 _Oh_ , Skittery thought. _Fuck. It’s back again. Damn it._

He had no idea why he’d kid himself that one year, it’d just go away. It never did.

“Skittery?”

He truly was his mother’s child through and through. Same eyes, same chin, same outlook on life, and, possibly, same destiny since you’d have to be blind to not see all the signs pointed in that very direction.

“ _Skittery?”_

And how fair was that, huh? He busted his ass every day of the year to actually go out and do things. And what had she ever done? Each day of his life as a boy was a lesson on what not to do and how not to do it. He tried his darndest to not end up like her but they were the most alike out of everyone in his family. It wasn’t fucking fair.

“Hey.” Skittery flinched when a hand shook his shoulder. Skittery looked at the hand and up its arm to the owner. A concerned-looking Davey Jacobs was looking down at him. The brown haired man was standing in front of his desk, leaning towards him slightly. Once he saw that he had Skittery’s attention, he spoke again. “Are you doing alright?”

Skittery blinked a few times, hearing the words but not quite understanding. “Huh?

“Okay.” Davey’s shoulders relaxed in relief and an awkward smile formed on his face. “I was saying your name a few times and I thought you were maybe somewhere else.”

“That so?”

“I wanted to know how your Poland piece is going.”

Skittery glanced down at his black typewriter and the pile of finished pages stacked next to it. He’d been typing away for the past hour, that much was obvious. But, try as he might, he couldn’t remember a single word that he’d written.

He quickly read the last sentence on the typewriter. Something about Poland's new constitution.

Oh, ok.

“It’s going, Davey.” He picked up the papers stacked on his desk and flipped through them. The second to last page simply had the word “Poland” written over and over again. What a waste of ink. That was probably going to come out of his pay. 

 _It’s going_ , Skittery thought. _More or less._

“So, um,” Davey rubbed the back of his neck as if he was nervous about something. Granted, his voice didn’t sound nervous. If anything ever bothered Davey, you really couldn’t tell by his voice since his tones tended to range from annoyed to exasperated to astonished. And excited, once. Skittery was aware that he and Davey didn’t talk that often, mostly because Skittery himself wasn’t much of a talker and Davey had yet to shed his title of the designated “new guy” despite months on the job. But that was no reason to be nervous. He didnt bite. Skittery hadn’t bitten anyone since roughly the summer of 1909.

“Yeah?” Skittery asked, slightly irritated. He pinched the bridge of his long nose since a headache had come out of nowhere, a deep pain that seems to pulsate every few seconds. It made him nauseous. He wanted a drink. He didn’t need to deal with this today. He needed to go home and wrap himself under his blanket.

 _No. Can’t do that._ Skittery didn’t want to fall victim to his illness. At least he thought it was an illness. It wasn’t as if he broke out into hives or needed to worry about hacking up a lung. But, he still considered himself sick in some way, suffering from whatever what this was. That’s how his pops explained it when his mother suffered the same way.

Skittery had a grand total of ten siblings and he was the only one who inherited this. Fantastic.

“It’s wintertime,” Davey started and Skittery fought the urge to sigh. As if he couldn’t tell by the snow flurries that morning. “And the guys, I heard them talking here and there. From what I’ve heard and what they directly told me about your…condition, you tend to have a difficult time during the winter. So,” Davey adjusted his bowtie and focused his dark brown eyes all over the room, anywhere instead of Skittery’s eyes. “I just wanted to know if you’re doing alright and need help with anything.”

Skittery glanced at the empty desks around him from where everyone else left for lunch. He remembered that he forgot to pack his lunch. Of course. “Help?” he pointedly asked.

“Assistance,” Davey elaborated further.

“They tell you to ask that?”

“What? No.” Davey sounded not astonished exactly. Probably affronted. Offended. New tone. “No one told me to tell you anything.”

Davey was a nice guy, if not a little odd. Just by the way he acted, it was obvious that, even though all the guys grew up in the same general area, he grew up in a totally different world. As a result, he was more than just a little uptight at times, despite the many times he tried to deny it. He didn’t understand all their jokes or peculiarities. While the rest of Skittery’s friends had known hardship their whole lives, having to make a decent life out of whatever happened to be in their back pockets, the Jacobs had only recently fallen on hard times. It showed. Skittery didn’t think it like it was an accusation, not many of the boys did, but the slight division seemed to weigh on Davey. There would always be snide comments made by people, but comments hurt. Skittery understood that. Comfortable upbringing or not, Skittery took no pleasure in watching a kind fella like Davey subject to those remarks, even if he was odd.

Then there was the fact that he always tended to butt heads with Jack Kelly and was dismissive toward to Katherine more often than not.

Skittery recognized that, knew what it meant. He and Davey were the same in that regard, at least Skittery strongly suspected. He was good at guessing things like that. Not many knew that and he didn't go advertising it to every curious person. He might want to die some days, but he’d prefer to go by his own hand and not by the hand of someone who felt personally insulted that he didn’t want to sleep with a broad.

“Skittery?”

He did it again.

“That’s nice of you, Davey, for checkin’ up on me. But,” he shrugged. “I’m fine. It’s just this thing that shows up sometimes. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Davey didn’t look convinced but, to Skittery’s thanks, didn’t push it. “Are you doin’ anything later today?”

Something other than sleeping until he died? “I don’t have anything planned, no.” He thought about it for a second. He needed to stay away from his apartment for as long as possible.

“Well, let me know if you come up with anything,” Davey said smiling. “I’ve been here for a while and I feel like getting to know you better.”

“Ok,” was all Skittery said. Was that rude? He felt he shouldn’t be so rude. Davey seemed alright if he was being completely honest.

Davey walked away, presumably to his desk to finish an assignment.

Only a few minutes went by before it came to Skittery.

“You ever been to a speakeasy, Davey?”

* * *

 

Skittery knew exactly why he chose a speakeasy. He blurted it out before he could rethink the idea. It was as good an idea as any. Speakeasies were loud. There were dancers. There were all sorts of people. There was always that man on trumpet who needed to reach the highest possible note that would remain ringing in the ears of the crowd for the rest of the night.

The only problem was the alcohol, something that happened to be the very reason behind the creation of speakeasies, believe it or not.

Not that Skittery was a supporter of the Volstead Act. Far from it. He just knew that his mother was an alcoholic. And he was so similar to his mother. And he didn’t want to end up like her.

He’d just order water and try to not stick out like a sore thumb. That’s what he usually did.

Skittery entered his small apartment. He lived alone and it wasn’t that difficult to do so. His eldest sister was unmarried so, with no need to support a husband or her children, she only used enough money to live on herself and everything else was sent to her ten other siblings. Mabel, his sister, had become something of the mother of the household after the passing of their mother all those years ago and she possessed the peculiar notion that all of her siblings, no matter their particular financial situation, couldn’t support themselves on their own.

That was dandy with Skittery. Extra money never hurt anyone.

And, even if he weren’t being sent the money, he would’ve still been fine. The apartment building had a lot of internal problems, water problems and infestations of all sorts, all of which helped make it affordable despite his residing in Manhattan.

He only ever came to his apartment to sleep anyway. Most of his life was spent outside.

The only reason he was here now was to change his clothes. Who went dancing in their work clothes? Not one guy if he had any sense.

* * *

The speakeasy was located inside an old church’s basement. It still served as a church during the day, and some of its attendees frequented the speakeasy underneath after hours. You couldn't hear much noise from the outside, save the faint sound of music. Skittery wasn't terribly religious but he almost felt as if it were in bad taste to have a speakeasy in a church. But, it was what it was.

There was a bald man standing guard inside the church. He sat in a pew next to the basement door and appeared to be reading the Bible open in front of him. At the sound of Skittery and Davey's footsteps, the man looked them up and down. 

"You Feds?"

"If we were Feds, would we say?"

"Fair enough." The heavyset man. "You packin'?"

"You're free to check," Skittery said. And with that, the man walked towards them and patted them down. Satisfied, he pointed his thumb at the basement door. "You can never be too sure, yes?"

Skittery nodded and he smiled at Davey. He made an "after you" gesture and Davey walked towards the door before turning the knob. As soon as the door was open, the sound of the music came much louder and the two men headed down the stairs.

It was a small space, typical of speakeasies. There seemed to be far more people than the space could handle, but handle them it did. People of all sorts were drinking and dancing and talking and singing. There was a four man band at one corner of the room and the trumpeter and the trombonist began a fast-paced melody.

Once the men were on the floor of the basement, the band was already in the middle of a song. The large number of people began dancing, each to their own rhythm. 

Skittery yelled above the music. "You ready?"

Davey had fear in his eyes. "Ready for what?"

Rather than answer, Skittery pushed Davey into the crowd of people. 

It was amusing for a minute, just watching Davey shuffle around awkwardly on the floor while surrounded with the more experienced dancers. Though, Skittery didn’t really think that they were necessarily more experienced, just looser. Freer. The music began to die down as the band took a small break. From outside the circle of dancers, Skittery laughed before joining Davey.

“C’mon, Davey,” Skittery started when he was next to Davey. “Even I ain’t that glum on the dancefloor.”

Davey’s face was red and his fingers combed through his sweat-slicked hair. He took a labored breath before saying, “This was a bad idea. I don’t know how to dance.”

“It’s the Charleston,” Skittery said. “You ain’t gotta know how to dance. I mean…” Skittery thought how best to explain his point. “Eight out of ten times, no one’ll know the difference if you just jerk your arms and legs around to the beat of the music.”

“Really?” Davey asked. His red face was shiny with sweat and his raised eyebrow made him look wholly unconvinced.

Skittery felt laughter bubble in his chest as the band’s drummer started his new rhythm. “No one here knows you from Adam. No one’s here to watch you fuck up. They’re here to get fucked up and have a fun time. Have fun. Follow my lead.”

Only seconds later, the trumpet from the band practically screamed and the drums picked up, reverberating through Skittery’s bones, and he felt alive in the way only music can. He wasn’t consciously aware of what his body was doing, paying attention took away the magic of it all, and he took delight in the brassy melody that felt like electricity in the humid air.

“Just throw your arms around, Davey!” he instructed over the sounds of band. His companion continued to stand stiffly but he slowly began to move his arms up and about, if not a little mechanically. “You got this!”

The dancers around the men were spinning and jumping at a frightening speed. It was a blur of orange and purple and yellow frills. Black suits were loose and hats went flying away from the idiots who continued to dance with hats on. The air was thick and smelly with alcohol and warm with the feeling of so many people. Sweat flew around, making potential victims of everyone.

Skittery could pinpoint the very moment when Davey began to really feel it. Davey’s careful face broke into an open-mouthed smile. He was laughing, something Skittery had never witnessed him doing before. His eyes were bright. Whether it was from joy or fear, Skittery couldn’t tell.

It was true. Davey didn’t know how to dance. His knees bent awkwardly and he was doing something strange with his neck, but it didn’t matter. No one cared, just like Skittery promised. They were just two nameless and faceless people in a mass of nameless and faceless people.

After minutes, or hours, the music died again. A deafening round of applause came from the occupants of the building and Skittery grabbed his chest and tried to catch his breath. He turned to where Davey had last been and it took a while to find him again among the numerous people who seemed to have switched places with him. Skittery pushed some people around, forgetting to apologize afterwards, and found Davey who happened to be in the arms of a drunk-looking woman. Skittery was still somewhat at a distance from him so he couldn’t hear what the woman was saying, but Davey’s eyes found his and sent him a pleading message.

Skittery nodded, understanding full well what was going on. And as he walked close, he could hear Davey trying to turn down the woman’s advancements.

“No. No, I’m sorry. No, thank you,” Davey kept saying.

“Aww, you’re a darlin’,” the woman said. “We can go to my place. My man wouldn’t mind.”

“Your man?”

“He won’t mind,” she insisted.

Skittery, close enough to enter the conversation, finally spoke. “He’s fine, thanks.”

The woman glowered at him. “Says _who_?”

“Says _me_. He’s sick.”

“He’s sick?” the woman asked.

“I’m sick?” Davey asked before Skittery stared at him and nodded.

“He’s coughin’ something fierce.”

Davey feebly coughed, illustrating this.

“Very contagious. It’s this thing that’s been goin’ around.”

Davey made another attempt at coughing. It was stronger this time.

“Really?” the woman said. Her fingers drew away from Davey as if she were suddenly burnt and she slowly walked backwards. “Oh my. I’ll leave you be. Good night.” And she disappeared into into another crowd of people, lost among dozens of drunk and dancing people.

“Thanks.” Davey smiled sheepishly at Skittery.

“No problem. Women, am I right?”

“Sarah,” Davey said.

“Oh, so you knew her?”

“No,” Davey said, sounding stunned. He walked passed Skittery and the other man turned his head to see where Davey was headed.

Davey was walking closer and closer to one corner of the room. There were some chairs knocked over and a wooden crates filled with paper and fliers, probably something related to the church above the speakeasy. Women and me, both young and old, were lounging around, talking amongst each other and drinking, of course. Two women seemed to catch the attention of Davey. He began talking to a woman who looked around the same age as him. She had short brown hair and a dark red grin. She was a wearing a dress typical flappers; it was periwinkle and had ruffles all around the bottom. Skittery didn’t notice much more than that. He didn’t know too much about women’s fashion. He was, however, aware of how the woman’s right hand was clasped in the hand of another woman who had bright red hair. Maybe if Skittery were a less perceptive sort of guy, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Seeing two girls holding hands wasn’t uncommon. But it was in how one of the woman’s body was closely pressed next to the other’s. It was in how, while one woman was talking with Davey, the other was looking at that woman with a look that Skittery couldn’t name.

It was in how the woman with the brown hair had her lipstick smudged at the corner of her lips.

Skittery was now standing near the three individuals, arms crossed as he leaned against a chair. He could hear the band start up again, but it was from a distance. It was quiet here. “So, Davey,” he started. “You gonna introduce us?”

Davey’s voice was like a degree above astonished. Maybe startled. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” He vaguely gestured at the woman he was talking to. “That’s my sister Sarah. And that’s her girlfriend, Ruth. Sarah, Ruth, this is my friend Skittery.”

Friend. Just like that. That’s comforting.

“Your sister?” Skittery asked exactly when Sarah asked, “Skittery?”

“Yeah,” Davey answering both. Sarah studied Skittery with the same brown eyes as Davey as Davey continued talking. “I don’t actually know what his name is. All I can recall is his surname but it’s long and difficult to pronounce.”

“Why the name Skittery?” the Ruth asked. She had a deep voice, sort of rough.

“No idea,” Skittery said honestly. It wasn’t something he thought about much. Nicknames were nicknames because they were made up by other people. It was plenty difficult to make up your own nickname and have people play along. He had been given this name sometime in his youth, back when he and Jack and Crutchie and Race and Elmer and Specs, among others, were as thick as thieves (literally, since they stole stuff). Race, the self-proclaimed master of nicknames, explained that it was because of his tendency to sneak up on people, silent as a ghost. Skittery figured that it was fair enough since sneaking around in a houseful of kids was a survival skill in order to get out of doing things. He was also given his name because, much like his last one, it was “long and difficult to pronounce”. It really wasn’t. It was just Polish.

“Pleasure to meet you, Skittery.” Sarah extended her hand towards Skittery and Skittery shook it. She had a strong grip. “Whenever I’m with Davey, he tends to talk about all you boys.”

“Does he?” Skittery asked, smiling at Davey.

“Nothing bad,” Davey explained. “You’re just interesting. And funny.”

“Me or everyone else?”

“The group of you.”

“We were just heading out.” Ruth sounded impatient. Her hand had, at some time, left Sarah’s hand and was now wrapped around her waist. She craned her neck and spoke something in Sarah’s ear and Sarah laughed, snorting.

“Okay, okay,” Sarah laughed. “It was nice meeting you, Skittery."

* * *

Once the girls left, Skittery got himself a glass of water. Davey decided to get water as well despite Skittery’s insistence that Davey shouldn’t curtail his own fun for Skittery’s sake. Davey wouldn’t budge. Something about “solidarity”, whatever that meant.

“What’s your actual name anyway?” Davey eventually asked as they watched people come and go from the building’s basement door.

Skittery told him.

“What about that name _isn’t_ a nightmare to say?”

Skittery rolled his eyes and sighed. “Now you’re just bein' mean.”

“Hope you don’t mind if I continue to call you by your nickname.”

“Don’t mind. It’s better than the other one.”

“Other one?”

Skittery nodded. “Glum and dumb. Not much of a nickname by anyone’s standards, but it makes the rounds. ‘S because I’m always “down in the dumps” and such. Not that I’m always down in the dumps, but I’m just more so than the average fella I suppose.” He drank some more water before continuing. “I ain’t even sure where the “dumb” part came from ‘cause I ain’t mute, if that was the definition of dumb they was goin’ for. Unless it means dumb as in stupid, which,” he chuckled. “In their defense, I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Maybe they just wanted something that rhymed,” Davey suggested. “Not that I agree with the description.”

“It’s a nickname. You ain’t supposed to agree with it.” Smirking at Davey, he said, “There’s a nickname in the works for you, y’know?”

“Really?” Davey sounded surprised. Was it an offended surprise or a delighted surprise? Who knew. “What is it?”

Skittery was unable to answer because, at that moment, the sound of a large door slamming open came from the very front of the room. A group of official-looking men were standing in basement door and the man in the front held up his insignia.

Skittery became aware of things in parts. The band suddenly went silent. Some people went still while others began the process of escaping the premises. Skittery focused on the man at the front of the group of feds. A certain Morris Delancey. What the hell was a Delancey brother doing here? They didn’t drink.

“This is a raid!” Morris Delancey shouted, gun pointed at the room. “This establishment is in direct violation of the Volstead Act!”

Oh, wait. He was a Prohie.

“Oh fuck. _Fuck_. Shit.” Davey’s voice sounded panicked.

Skittery felt his head clear slightly. “There’s a back door. It leads to some alley.” And as the crowd panicked, Skittery grabbed Davey’s arm and they made their way behind the back of the multitude of people trying to run in all different directions.

“What about Sarah?” Davey asked, still panicking.

“She already left, remember? Skittery loudly said above the cries of the crowd. “We’re almost there.”

And then they were there. The door was behind empty crates that once held the alcohol that was brought here. Skittery threw the boxes around, swearing to himself when his finger got caught on one of the pieces of wood. Finally, once the door was uncovered, Skittery yanked the door open and he left the warm building and entered the freezing air outside, followed by Davey and a few other strangers that had seen the way to escape.

In the distance, the men could see the lights of the fed’s cars. They heard the sounds of gunshots and of screams and of cursing. In the back of his mind, Skittery joked to himself that it was one speakeasy down, several hundred to go. And more being created every day. Like a Hydra.

They ran down the street, a wonder with how the ice that slicked the ground underneath Skittery’s feet caused him to slip occasionally. Other people who had gotten out of the building spread out in different directions. The cold wind seemed to only get colder, stinging at Skittery’s eyes.

But in that moment, while the two were running, the chill of the air didn’t force images of his mother into his mind. He felt like his head was above the water, just a little more alive. Not as alive as he was while dancing; that was something else altogether. But it was the feeling of life, nonetheless. The men eventually stopped, finding shelter inside a diner, same place Skittery was sure that his pals frequented. They were breathless and shook their heads each other, brushing the fallen snow from their coats and hair, laughing at each other. It was moments like these when he questioned why he ever thought never waking up from his sleep was a good idea.

But it didn’t last. It never did.

* * *

 

Almost as soon as the beating of Skittery’s heart slowed, the unbearably stifling feeling of sorrow overwhelmed him. Its cold hand clutched Skittery’s heart and he fought to hold back his sobs and ended up making a choking sound as he collapsed into a seat.

“You don’t pay, you don’t sit,” a shrill voice said inside the small empty diner. Skittery’s face was in his frozen hands and he didn’t look up to see who was speaking. Probably the owner. He would’ve said something but his body felt so heavy, too heavy to even consider responding.

“We’ll have a couple of coffees, thanks,” Davey said sharply from above Skittery. He sounded collected, if not a little breathless from the run here. Skittery wondered how Davey was feeling. He’d invited the guy to engage in merrymaking, not sit inside a diner as he watched his companion break down for no discernable reason.

But he should’ve known better, smart as he was. Glum and dumb Skittery and unwanted issues were a package deal. He should’ve had the decency to warn this good-hearted fella what he was getting into.

Skittery felt warmth next to him as Davey sat down next to him rather than across from him. They sat in silence for some time, a waitress eventually bringing two mugs of black coffee and leaving just as quickly.

“Would it be out of bounds to ask if you wanted a hug of some kind?” he heard Davey say. Skittery was using whatever self-control he had to keep himself from crying. He hadn’t let a single tear drop from his eyes yet and he wasn’t inclined to cry in front of anyone for the first time in years.

Fuck, and to think he had gone out tonight because he wanted to steer clear of these emotions.

Skittery took a shuddering breath and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

And as Davey wrapped his arms around him, Skittery wondered how a single person could be so kind to a person he didn’t even know that well. He deserved an explanation at the very least.

“I’m bad during the winter because…” Skittery began once Davey let him go, pausing while deciding how to phrase this. “Winter’s dreadful on its own, but my mother also killed herself durin’ this time of year.” He slumped into his seat and rubbed his hands down his face. He was quiet for a few moments, half expecting Davey to say something. He didn’t, so he continued. “She was always so fuckin’ sad, y’know? Cryin’ a lor. Over nothin’ or anythin’. I, hah,” he cut himself off, bitterly laughing at himself while remembering something. “I dropped one of my sister’s vases in the room. Terribly ugly, it was. Still, it was some stupid accident. And my mother happened to be there and she just started cryin’ all of a sudden. Couldn’t understand it.” Skittery closed his eyes, reluctantly watching the scene play behind his eyelids. “And if she wasn’t cryin’, she wasn’t there. She’d just…stay in her bed or stare at the wall or read the same page in her book for hours.” He opened his eyes and looked at Davey whose mouth was positioned into a concerned frown. “I know that last bit in particular because I watched her. She didn’t even notice I was there.”

Davey nodded as if he understood. Skittery had no idea why he would understand, but he wasn’t going to stop talking about this now because if he did, he’d never continue.

“She was fine once spring came. Or summer. It was seasonal or somethin’.” He sighed slowly before reciting, “In the bleak mid-winter, frosty wind made moan. Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone. Ugh,” he cut himself off, hopelessly gesturing at the space in front of him, shrugging in defeat. “Something something about some snow. In the bleak mid-winter long ago.” His vision went blurry.

“Christina Rossetti?” Davey guessed.

“It was her favorite carol. Loved that carol. She’s sing it to us every Christmas Eve.” Skittery sniffed and convinced himself that it was because of the cold. “Fuckin’ _hate_ that carol. Because everytime durin’ this season, I remember the day before Christmas Eve. My sisters was out carolin’ with the neighbors. Mabel, my older sister, said my face was smudgy and that I needed to clean up. So, I went to the bathroom to wash it and found my mother in a pool of her own blood. I wasn’t scared at first, just confused. Thinkin’ about why my mom was sleepin’ on the floor. And later, I was wonderin’ why no one heard nothin’. Fuckin’ awful.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like, Skittery,” Davey said, sounding like he meant every word. “I’m terribly sorry that happen to you. So, is that why you feel low in the winter?” Davey wondered.

“No,” Skittery said, shaking his head. “I mean, maybe? I thought it was that, but I don’t even have to be thinkin’ about that. I just feel—” he folded his fingers together and tapped his knuckles in a repeating pattern. “Ain’t sure. Half dead, maybe? Takes two times the effort to do anythin’ but I still do it ‘cause I don’t wanna end up like her. But you know what they say about apples and trees and all that.” Skittery swallowed around the growing lump at the back of his throat. “Every year, I see more o’ her in me. One day, it’ll jus’ be her. It’s inevitable.”

“It’s not.”

“Fuck do you know about it?” Skittery said, no energy behind his question.

“My dad,” Davey explained in that understanding voice of his. His brown eyes had a sad look. “I was gonna study law, you know? Become a lawyer and defend the people who need all the help they can get. But, my dad broke his arm at his job in the factory. It was just an accident and he was let go because of it. He felt cheated. We all did. But he also felt useless and he hardly ever left the house. And my dad,” Davey looked into the distance, probably visualizing the past. “My dad’s always been full of energy. My little brother, Les, is just like him. Always something to do and no time to do it. But, but then. It was as if all the life had been sucked from him. He’d just sit in his room, not doing anything. Just…sitting. Maybe not so different from your mom.” Davey fiddled with his fingers. “He’d put on a good face when guests were over or if he ever needed to be someplace. Like, nothing’s wrong. But it was a mask, you see. Wasn’t even a good mask if you knew him as well as we did. It was terrifying to see him like that.”

“Yeah?” Skittery asked.

“Yeah. I had to put my dreams of law school on hold because I had suddenly become acting man of the household. I needed a job to support the family. It bothered my mom but I think it really broke my dad’s heart.”

“What’s he like now?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Davey smiled at Skittery. “He has his days. I don’t think you can deal with something like that and not have your bad days. But, he had a support system. He had people to lean on and keep him from falling. It wasn’t easy. He didn’t too much want to participate in the beginning. But his good days vastly outnumber the bad ones and he has us during his bad days. And we’re not going anywhere, ever.”

Skittery felt a single tear fall and he quickly wiped it away. He wore a sad sort of smile and scratched at his head. “I’m never usually this emotional, by the way. Dumpin’ all my problems on someone else.”

“It’s fine, Skittery.” Davey squeezed his shoulder.

“I’m _serious_ ,” Skittery said. “This was a one-time thing. Never gonna happen again.”

“We’re friends, Skittery. I don’t mind. We all have our issues we have to talk about. Keeping it all inside isn’t healthy.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Skittery mused, resting his chin in his hands. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your deal with Katherine Plummer.”

Skittery watched as Davey’s face instantly fell. “What about her?”

Skittery shook his head, tired with seeing this play out with his…friend. After tonight, what else could this guy be? “Now’s my time to give you advice, Davey.” Skittery sniffed once more and rubbed his frozen nose with the back of his hand. “Now, I know Jack’s a one-of-a-kind, at least in your mind. Tall, great smile. We all fall a little heads over heels for our friends though we try to convince ourselves otherwise.”

Davey’s eyes quickly widened and his mouth dropped open, completely caught off guard. “Wh-what? I’ve got no idea, _no idea_ , what you’re talking about—” He glanced around the, still empty, diner as if worried that eavesdropping occupants were going to suddenly appear.

“Don’t worry, Davey. It’s just us here. And you like him. I can tell.” Skittery raised his arm and patted Davey’s shoulder. “I’ve been in your shoes before.”

Davey’s eyes widened even more. Skittery knew he was scared, and that was fair enough. Folks like them didn’t survive that long if they weren’t covert when it came to what, and who, they’d prefer to do in bed. Skittery was no stranger to the sharp pain of a fist in his face after drunkenly flirting with the wrong men. Not that he ever learned from his mistakes. But that wasn’t the point. He doubted Davey would ever work himself up to that sort of situation, especially since he seemed to only have eyes for a certain Kelly, and Skittery would be damned if he had to put up with seeing this fella make eyes at the most oblivious man this side of the Hudson.

“The thing about Jack,” Skittery started, cutting Davey off before he could say something, “he’s capable of lovin’ everyone. _Anyone_. He’s got a big dumb heart. I’ve known him for a while, you see, and he used to go through girls like nothin’. Always findin’ somethin’ new.”

“Used to?” Davey breathed. He still looked annoyed that he was cut off, but at least he had his attention.

“Yeah, used to.” Skittery leaned his back against the building behind him, unable to feel its chill but was very aware of its sharp material poking through his coat into his back. No matter. He was already down and he wasn’t planning on standing straight up anytime soon. “He’s got a good thing goin’ on with Katherine. He really likes her. I’d know because he’s never been with anyone this long.”

Davey nodded as though he understood Skittery’s point.

“All I’m sayin’ is wait it out. Maybe things’ll end between them. Maybe. But let him have this.” Skittery sneezed suddenly and cursed. “Damn, it’s cold.”

“But—”

“No buts, Jacobs. You advised me, I advised you. It’s part of our little friendship deal thing. And friends have to tell you when a crush ain’t worth it so said friend don’t get hurt. And, if I’m bein’ honest, talkin’ to you about this takes my mind off everythin’ else, so let me have this.”

Davey glared at him, but relented. “If you say so, Skittery. But, really. You start feelin’ down in any way, let me know.”

“I just said I wanted to take my mind off that.”

Davey rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Sure. You wanna get out?”

Davey looked down at their mugs of coffee. No doubt they were cold now. “What a waste. Yeah, let’s go.” Davey pulled out his wallet and placed down some bills on the table and the two of them left the booth and exited the diner.

“Thanks for tonight, by the way,” Skittery as they walked. The snow fell, glowing slightly under the street’s lamplights. Fallen snow crunched underneath his shoes and his breath froze in front of his face. “Means a lot.”

Davey smiled and began to say something.

“If you say “that’s what friends are for”, I’m going to start walkin’ in the other direction.”

Davey laughed but said nothing, found out. As they continued to walk, Skittery decided that maybe winter this year wouldn’t be too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> when it comes to the depiction of skittery's seasonal depression, a lot of it is just projection. i have the same thing so all my research came from myself, not any outside resources. stuff like feeling pretty great one moment and literally wanting to cry the next. or just casually thinking about dying. or trying to keep yourself occupied so your head doesn't head down that direction.
> 
> also, i wrote that davey's dad got depressed after getting hurt, and subsequently laid off, at his job. it's not canon but, to be fair, not much is known about davey's parents besides that they're parents of the jacobs kids. so i created that little thing so these guys could have a bonding moment.
> 
> reviews are appreciated, but i'm just happy if you read this whole thing lol!


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